


Under Starless Skies

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Category: Original Work, Ship to Wreck - Florence + the Machine (Song)
Genre: Gen, Inspired by Music, Jukebox 2020, Merpeople, Modern Era, Transformation, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:46:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24345220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: After all, she has a man to turn into a creature. This, she can do easily.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: Jukebox 2020





	Under Starless Skies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dimthestars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimthestars/gifts).



In the bathroom mirror, her skin looks neon-tinged from the overhead lights. Fluorescent. Algae beneath epidermis? Surely not. Too close for comfort, though, and too close to obvious.

The pipes in the walls creak once, loudly, and a toilet flushes in the flat right above. Floorboards pushing into each other and a muffled alarm accompanies the sound of her neighbour preparing for the day.

Another night turning to morning.

The underlying buzz of technology around her has turned to white noise in the intervening hours, but the rhythm she's been in stumbles and crashes to the floor from one instant to the other, sunshine streaming through the gauzy curtains straight in her eyes, corneas aching, throat parched.

Her shift is about to end shortly, noon this week, a weird extended graveyard shift, and she tries to get back into the rhythm before their flat will get invaded by their guests. They'll come and it'll be a tiring yet welcomed change to something else, something human. She swallows around her dry mouth and wills away the incipient throbbing at her temples for the time being.

Water.

Water. Water. Water.

Gabi's fiddling around in the kitchen. Coffee. Luce should get up and help, or at least move around. She's left the bathroom for the living room, but the kitchen machinery whines and whirs loudly enough she might as well be standing by the counters already. She should definitely move, though. Stretch. Coffee.

_Water._

She gives in. She wills herself to move. Ignores a ding from the computer speakers, and then another two in quick succession. She's actually standing by the counters in no time at all. Her thigh muscles throb oddly.

"Good?" Gabi asks, and she nods, accepts a cup of black coffee, squeezes around their small kitchen for the fridge to grab whatever vegetable-based milk she can find inside it. She'll leave half her drink undrunk by her keyboard anyway. She reaches for a glass and fills it with water. Cool and fresh. Tap water is shit here in the city, but their little faucet filter does what it can.

She's barely touched her lips to the rim of the glass when a series of notifications drive her back into the living room, back behind the monitor, both the glass and cup by her side, both as yet untouched.

*

Hours later, she tries to get out of the call but she's obliged to check in. Katie doesn't let her off the hook even though her own children are screaming in the background.

Using the wireless headset is useful, especially right now with the door, someone is at the door. Buzz buzz buzz. Eyes bleary, she marches over, draws is open to greet them, they're here, but Katie is on her bullshit, so Luce only manages to scrunch up her face in disgust before her brow clears and she motions them inside, a feeble greeting, apologies already taking shape in her head for once she's done.

*

Introductions are easy once she's off the clock. All of them are lovely, of course, polite and respectful of the scarcity of resources. They seem to enjoy working with new people, talented people. Michelle smiles and carries the conversation easily, while Michael jokes around whenever the conversation lags. Luce knows them a little better, is glad they're there, even though Gabi's not back yet. Even though Luce sort of has to play hostess and sort of not. It's tiring. She's tired already. Exhausted.

It's a special transformation today. Average bloke to creature-feature monster. Luce can create that easily with the right make-up and prosthetics and time and patience. The image is already in her head, after all.

He knows who this Neil bloke is of course, though perhaps not for the reasons they think. He's working constantly in a business where consistent work is scarce. She appreciates the risks he took a decade or more ago. The risk he's still taking with them. It's not going to be like the photoshoot she knows him from, but few things can be. The photoshoot is the one not exactly safe for work. The one you stumble upon when browsing people's vintage erotica photograph collection. It's not a big deal, but he's just as handsome now as he used to be when those old photos were taken. Has moved on, clearly, but she can appreciate someone who took a risk. Possibly one which never paid off, one no one in this room knows about. But Michelle has a vision, and Michael is a problem solver, and Gabi can turn shit to gold, so Luce knows even though it's a risk, it's not the biggest, it makes sense.

She's yet to drink her water or her coffee or turn off her work computer. The buzz is deafening now.

"All right?" he asks an hour in. It's plain to see his concern. Luce lets the brush float for a long moment in the air between them. This kindness is guileless, but her vision swims.

_Swim._

"Of course." But then she excuses herself vaguely for the washroom anyway.

*

She guzzles down water directly from the tap, cups her palms to bring it to her mouth. Even considers going in the tub and letting the faucet drench her completely, drink it down like that, but there are people in her living room and Gabi is at the post office mailing an order, evidently held up.

In the mirror, Luce looks grey.

A knock on the door is followed by a clear voice muffled by varnished wood asking, "Still good?"

Scales.

Possibly.

Possibly scales. The fluorescent lights don't help. But her cheeks are faintly green just shy of the sides of her face. It's plain to see, easy to spot. If she'd been on top of things she could have put on make-up to hide the first signs, the full-coverage foundation with the creams on top. But, then again, if she'd been on top of her shit like she should be she wouldn't now be in this mess. She'd be fine. She wouldn't be hiding in her own bathroom, contemplating turning on the shower and getting drenched while her feet are still feet.

"Yes, all good." Lie. A lie to protect the innocent.

Neil steps away to speak to the others. Michelle's voice carries, but Luce can't quite make out the words regardless.

The green will recede, but she can't hide herself off in the bathroom until it does. Maybe only until Gabi gets back. Where is she? The post office can hardly take this long.

The green is greying out. Her fingers, which she's been avoiding looking at, not even a peek, touch at her ears. No webs there, or, at least, that's what the mirror tells her. Her ears look the same as they did yesterday as well. She turns the faucet on again to drink and drink and drink. Stares once more longingly at the tub before exiting the room into natural daylight and people and expectant gazes.

She makes her excuses and goes to retrieve her prosthetics. Avoids stilling for too long lest someone notices and starts to suspect there's more than meets the eye, more than a normal woman being briefly sick or even exhaustion catching up to her at the wrong time.

She scurries and makes herself look busy while the conversation picks up again. Her tools at her disposal, she thanks Neil, the picture of kindness, looks him in the eye, forces his grey eyes into her brown, and hopes he'll look too closely to notice anything else, too busy letting himself believe it was a fluke and letting himself be manhandled as before for the job they have to do. It's a neat trick she doesn't like using, but needs must.

After all, she has a man to turn into a creature. This, she can do easily.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how to explain this story. But some combination of the lyrics, your prompts and the month of May created this in my brain. I genuinely hope you were at least vaguely entertained.
> 
> ETA June 11th '20: I has tumblr: [rhubarbdreams](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/)


End file.
